


Honour Amongst Thieves || Ready Player One

by OpheliaBennet



Category: Ready Player One (2018), Ready Player One - Ernest Cline
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Character Death Fix, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fantasy, Fix-It, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2020-05-07 19:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19216015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpheliaBennet/pseuds/OpheliaBennet
Summary: ❝I don't think anyone can ever stop being a gunter. Once the obsession starts, there's no stopping it. And even though I've spent two years trying to turn my back on it all, in the end, you can't let something, or indeed someone, like James Halliday go. Even if you wanted to.❞~ in which an ex-gunter takes up her old identity to stop Halliday's easter egg from falling into the wrong hands.~~~Demelza-Leigh Caine was one of the lucky ones; born with a silver spoon in hand, growing up wanting for nothing, and becoming infamous throughout the OASIS. And even though zeroing out should have made no difference to her in the real-world, when her clan betrayed her, it still felt as though she had lost everything.However, in the year 2044, something changed. A name appeared on Halliday's Scoreboard.After two years of hiding in plainsight, Demelza realised that IOI would be out in force once they caught up withthis 'Parzival.' No matter the cost, if it meant keeping Halliday's egg out ofIOI's hands, it was time to take up her hat and coat once more.





	1. Profile

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER
> 
> The contest tasks are taken from the book, but I will be including events from the film as well. Because of this, events that do not appear in the book may appear in this fanfiction as it happens in the film and vise versa. I have tried my best to blend the two together smoothly to make a story that I hope you can enjoy.
> 
> The events of this fanfiction are a mixture of the events occuring in both the book Ready Player One, written by Ernest Cline, and the 2018 Warner Bros. film of the same name. I do not own any of the characters or plot content, besides those relating to Demelza-Leigh Caine / Ak3l4. Any resemblance between these characters to actual people, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

name  **|**  demelza-leigh caine

gamer tag  **|**  ak3l4 (pronounced 'ah-KEY-lah)

born  **|**  27 october 2024, cornwall, england

location  **|**  vancouver, canada

occupation  **|**  corporate heir

oasis identity  **|**  pirate queen / ex-gunter / ex-bounty hunter

☠ ☠ ☠

_❝we're dressed in black, head to toe_

_we've got guns hidden under our petticoats_

_no, we're never gonna quit it_

_no, we're never gonna quit it, no❞_

**~ chocolate - the 1975**


	2. Game Start

As Kieran clears the end of the wave, the five of us get to our feet, cheering, waving our sarongs and towels above our heads. He collapses onto his board and rides out the current to shore. I follow the other girls down the beach to meet him.

            Kieran isn’t his real name or his gamer tag, just as Amelia isn’t mine. We don’t use those here. We picked out a name and there were no questions asked. I like it this way.

            The Vacation Planet isn’t my favourite place in the OASIS but it’s one of the few places I actually go to nowadays. It’s not that I don’t have the coin to travel between planets – I have plenty from the real world – I just don’t feel like it anymore. There are moments when I’m with my friends, most of whom spend all of their OASIS time on this planet as well, that I think of going back to the way I was, but every time that happens, I felt a tickle between my shoulder blades, and immediately shake it off like a clingy droplets of water.

            One of my friends, Jennie, falls silent, then lets out a loud sigh. “I’ve got to leave to have dinner with my parents,” she says, rolling her anime-girl-sized, violet eyes. Kieran and the girls groan as she gives everyone a quick squeeze before logging out.

            I check the OASIS time and took off a few hours to accommodate for my differing time zone. “I should probably get going too, guys.” Another collective groan. It isn’t that I actually have anywhere to be, it’s that spending so much time around these kinds of people and essentially not doing anything is surprisingly exhausting. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise.” I’m lying.

            Even though I need a break from all the cheerfulness and excitement, as soon as I take off my visor, I miss to perfectly white, sandy beaches and clear ocean of the Vacation Planet. The colours of my bedroom always fells so dull after coming out of the vibrant OASIS.

            My friends probably think that I’m leaving to have lunch with the family. Most of them do at some point. They must have all have families like mine; traditional and, more importantly, wealthy. But in reality, it’s eleven o’clock at night and my body is tired.

            I unhook the chords from my boot suit that stop me from falling off the omnidirectional treadmill. Stripping off the suit, I change into my pyjamas and go into my en suite to wash up before I go sleep. I barely have it in me to close the blinds and turn off the lights before collapsing onto the bed.

☠

“Demelza!” I can only groan in reply to my mother’s call. “Demelza-Leigh, are you still in bed?”

            “Coming,” I manage to get out before she opens my door without knocking, an annoying habit of hers.

            “Staying up late in the OASIS isn’t good for you, dear,” Mother says, adjusting the blinds so that a little sunlight bleeds into my bedroom. “I don’t want you going back to how you were a couple of years ago. You look so much better now.”

            “I know, Mother.”

            “Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.”

            I struggle out of bed, trudge over to the en suite, wash my face, and get dressed. I brush my hair up into a ponytail and straighten out my bed before leaving the room.

            Our family chef is an excellent cook. He has been with our family since I can remember. Still, I don’t know why he bothers getting up to make the fifteen minute walk from his house to the family estate so early in the morning. I never understood how people could stomach meat from breakfast. So when he offers me some bacon, I politely pass and pick up a couple of slices of toast.

            “Any plans for today?” I ask Mother, as she comes to sit next to me at the kitchen island, a steaming mug of tea in one hand and an electronic tablet in the other.

            She shakes her head, not looking up from the news article she’s reading. “I’m going to the office, got a couple of meetings. Your father and I are having lunch together. Then back to work this afternoon. Do you want to come?”

            “To the office? Sure.” It’s not like I have anything better to do.

            “I got you a present, my dear.” My father enters the kitchen with a huge smile on his face.

            Gifts from my parents are not uncommon, but most of them are based in the OASIS. So I am pleasantly surprised when my father places a box on the countertop next to my plate. I look up at him and smile, putting aside my toast, brushing the crumbs from my fingers, and pick up the box.

            It’s much heavier than I expected it to be. I lift the lid, let out a little gasp and then frown at the contents.

            “It’s lovely, but…why on earth would I ever need one?”

            In the box is a gun, a newly manufactured one it seems because I don’t recognise the model. When I lift it up with both of my hands, I can tell that it isn’t loaded, but under a little tissue paper are a couple of boxes of bullets.

            “In this day and age, the world’s a dangerous place, Demelza.” My father pats me on the shoulder. “I’d feel better if you were protected whenever you leave the house.”

            I release the magazine, load it with a couple of bullets and slide it back in. Pulling back the top of the gun, I smile to myself. I haven’t held a gun for almost two years, and even then it was only in the OASIS. “I love it. Thank you.”

            “You look like you already know how to use one of those.” I drop to my eyes and try to hide the smirk from my mother’s concerned expression. “I won’t ask.”

☠

I don’t enter the OASIS at all throughout the day. As boring as they might sound to anyone else, I sit in on all of my mother’s meetings. I take the minutes and give suggestions when asked. Being the heir to this company doesn’t necessarily mean that I have to take over as CEO when my mother retires, but I do want to stay in touch with company affairs as much as possible.

            I come home a little after four, leaving my mother in the office to work for another few hours. Father left to visit another branch just across the US border after we had lunch and won’t be home until later this week. Even though the chauffer comes to pick me up just outside the main office building in the centre of Vancouver, I keep my gun in the front pockets of my bag, just in case.

            I eat something as soon as I get home, and probably again a little later. But I don’t remember a great deal of what happens from this point until just after seven o’clock to following morning. I don’t remember greeting my mother when she gets home. I don’t remember getting changed and collapsing onto my bed once again.

            Because none of that mattered when I wake up this morning, unlock my phone and see I have numerous messages from my friends about one thing.

            After five years, Halliday’s Scoreboard has finally changed. One name is sitting at the top next to a score of 10,000.

            Parzival.


	3. An Original Story

I had always expected IOI to be the first to find the location of the Copper Key. With all of the their Oologists working tirelessly, it seemed impossible for anyone else to the get to the key before the corporate bastards at IOI.

            But I suppose it doesn’t matter if this ‘Parzival’ is an independent gunter or not; IOI will be on his ass, begging him to join their Sixers teams, paying him whatever he wants to sell his soul to a devil named Nolan Sorrento. He’s the CEO of IOI, and even _my_ family thinks he’s a monster. I can only hope that Parzival is a loyal gunter with at least some sort of back bone.

            Then, as I sit bolt upright in my bed, a thought comes to my mind. It’s a thought that has haunted me many times over the past two years, since I gave up the life that I had in the OASIS, but more importantly, as a gunter.

            What if I were to go back? What if I were to put on my hat, hoist the sails, and sore across the OASIS skies once more? Now that one avatar has found the Copper Key, it won’t be long before word gets out and everybody knows where it is. No doubt IOI will have every Sixer they can get barricading the area off to anyone who so much as tries to come near it.

            So what’s stopping me from going back? Two years ago, I would have charged against all of the Sixers and mercilessly struck them down if it meant that IOI would never get Halliday’s egg. So why I am still sitting in my bed? Why am I even hesitating?

☠

I was somebody else before I joined the Vacation Planet camps. I wasn’t obsessed with clothes and taking cute polaroid pictures with my friends, or sleeping next to a campfire on the beach. I love all of these things now, but it wasn’t always like this.

            Once, I had been in possession of a large collection of weapons from the _Star Trek_ series that spanned the sixties to the early two-thousands, as well as original trilogy _Star Wars_ blasters and vintage lightsabres. I’d had a ship a well, an exact replica of the _RLS Legacy_ from Treasure Planet, a film released in 2002.

            I was bounty hunter, and a very good one at that. When I was fourteen, I had become quite fascinated with pirates, and so fashioned my avatar into one. And once I had my ship, I crowned myself a Captain. I even had a crew of three.

            I kept a blog, recording every adventure I had. Of course, I left out a lot of the details and very much over-glamourized each affair for entertainment value. I gathered quite a following as well, and those who didn’t know my name dubbed me the Pirate Queen. But I never revealed my face, not even to my own crew. I kept it in the shadows with an enchantment on my hat. That way all I needed for a disguise was my avatar’s face and a change of clothes.

            For four years, we sailed the OASIS skies, scouting rare artefacts. I’ve only ever known luxury in my life and perhaps I thought if I found these rare items and gave them to lower level avatars, they might have a better chance with their own quests. But not long into my days of piracy, I started taking jobs exclusively for people who could pay well, or jobs in places where I was guaranteed a few kills of high level avatars and could collect whatever loot they were carrying. So much for doing things for the benefit of others.

            I don’t know the exact reason why it all ended, but it seemed that my crew didn’t fancy taking orders anymore. We always split the coin, but I got the largest share and all of the credit. I did most of the work anyway, and I could have crewed that ship by myself if I’d had to. Then one day, I was staring over the side of my ship as we passed into the orbit of a PvP planet, and the next thing I knew, there was a blade in my back and I’m floating above my avatar, watching the OASIS replay the moment that my avatar was mutinously murdered.

            I lost everything; my ship, my weapons, my coin. I lost the friends I thought I could trust. I’d never felt so alone in my life. I didn’t log back into the OASIS for six months, and in that time, I took a greater interest in my real-world family business. I thought it would keep my mind occupied and that I wouldn’t miss my other life. But even when I began to miss the old days, I was too ashamed to go back to the life I loved.

            And so Captain Ak3l4, the Pirate Queen, was no more.

☠

I throw back the covers and go over to my bookcase. I kept all of the research I did for the egg hunt, including many box folders of hardcopy notes on the top shelf. I pull down a couple and sift through them to find the notes on the first clue, which I’d found quite quickly in the marked letters of _Anorak’s Almanac_.

**_The Copper Key awaits explorers_ **

**_In a tomb filled with horrors_ **

**_But you have much to learn_ **

**_If you hope to earn_ **

**_A place among high scorers_ **

As soon as I’d seen the clue, I figured out the part about the _Tomb of Horrors_ , a Dungeons & Dragons campaign from 1978. But in all my trips across the twenty-seven sectors of the OASIS, I had never been able to find a reconstruction of the _Tomb_. And as for the second part of the clue, I hadn’t the faintest idea.

            I had studied that particular D&D module within an inch of its life, and would probably still remember many of the details to this day, but my digital copy of the module, along with all of my other shit, had been taken when I zeroed out. Thankfully, I had been smart enough to store a lot of the tv shows, music, films, and a copy of _Anorak’s Almanac_ on external hard drives, but I still lost enough to leave me sufficiently pissed off.

            If this is the choice that I’m making, there isn’t any time to waste. I wash, dress in comfortable clothes, and hurry downstairs to grab some breakfast. My mother and the family chef are chatting in the kitchen when I enter. I fill a bowl with an assortment of fruit and balance a slice of toast on top of it.

            “I take it you aren’t coming into work today?” Mother says.

            “If that’s alright,” I say.

            “Are you off into the OASIS? So early?”

            “I have things to do.”

            “Where are you going?” she asks, frowning as I grin with manic delight.

            “To get my shit back,” I say, feeling a swell of excitement rise so high in my chest that it’s almost suffocating.

            My mother only shakes her head at such a vague reply, but I don’t care. I leave the kitchen with a dangerous determination. After all, Captain Ak3l4 always got what she wanted, no matter the cost.

            I don’t think anyone can really stop being a gunter. Once the obsession starts, there’s no stopping it. And even though I’ve spent two years trying to turn my back on it all, in the end, you can’t let something, or indeed someone, like James Halliday go. Even if you wanted to.


	4. Long Live The Queen

I was able to acquire a red, round-brimmed pirate hat when I re-entered the OASIS after my six month hiatus. It has a veil around the brim so that I can keep my face hidden, but I hadn’t made the effort to enchant it. I also had a pistol containing one shot. I suppose part of me knew that I could never really stop being a pirate. A very small, very hidden part.

            For my outfit, I do the best with what I have. I choose a cream coloured, cotton dress with poet sleeves, a plaited leather belt and a pair of tan cowboy boots. Even with my hat, I hardly look the menace that I used to be. But, hopefully, not for much longer.

            I get a fair few funny looks whilst I stand on the shores of the Vacation Planet where my avatar appears. Opening up my map of the OASIS, I can bring up the location of my old crew members. Even after they killed my avatar, we were still connected as ‘friends’ when I respawned. This means that I’m still able to see where their avatars are. I suppose, the only reason I haven’t tracked them until now is because I thought I was taking the high road by not seeking revenge.

            Unsurprisingly, Miiranda, my first mate, the one who put the blade between my shoulders, is on Neonoir, an planet in Sector sixteen, an eternal cityscape where it is always night time. That makes me smile. It being a PvP zone where both magic and technology functions, my great return might be nice and public.

            The nearest teleportation point takes me to the entrance of a hotel on a busy street that reminds me of the old photos I’ve seen of Tokyo, Japan. My nose is immediately filled, courtesy of my Olfatrix tower, with the scents rain and street food. Neon lights blaze over head as far as I can see, the street stretching over the horizon and beyond my vision. According to my OASIS map, Miiranda is only a few streets away in a large parking complex.

            I climb the stairwell, coming out onto each floor, taking a look around, then running up to the next level. When I reach the fifth floor, I spot her a hundred feet away. Her avatar isn’t the most imaginative; a short, Disney Princess-looking girl, with a ridiculously tiny waist and huge, bleached blonde curls hanging down her back. She’s laughing with a group of new friends, her skinny arms looking fit to snap with the weight of two stumbling avatars clinging to her for support.

            Adjusting my hat and ensuring the veil is secure all around, I stride the length of the car pack level and stop behind a pillar. Watching as she wrestles her four friends into an ugly, black hovercraft, I wait until all the doors have closed and she’s making her way around to the driver’s side door.

            “Hello, Miiranda.” My voice echoes loudly around the car park floor.

            She turns around quickly, her hair fanning out behind her. “Do I…know you?” she frowns, stepping out from behind the car and a little closer to where I am now leaning against the pillar.

            “Oh Mimi, I’m insulted!” I swagger forwards, the way I used to across the deck of my ship, my boot spurs clicking merrily. “You’ve forgotten me already.” The thickness of my avatar’s programmed exotic accent is music to my ears. I felt the need to switch to a common American dialect when I came back to the OASIS, just in case I met anyone on the Vacation Planet who was an ex-fanatic.

            “Captain?” Her voice shakes a little. She isn’t even able to say my name. This makes me laugh.

            Steadying my voice suddenly after the absurd cackle, I articulate, “I want my ship back.”

            “I’ll give you on thing, Captain,” Miiranda says nervously. “In two years, you certainly haven’t lost your touch.”

            “No thanks to you.”

            She smiles as widely as she dares. “I thought you’d bounce back a lot faster than this. I almost forgot about you. Where have you been?”

            “I just want my ship. Hand it over and I’ll be on my way.”

            “I don’t have it,” Miiranda says too quickly. “I sold it, auctioned it off as soon as I could.”

            “You won’t mind if I check then?” I took a couple of steps towards her.

            “I told you, I don’t have it.”

            “I don’t worry,” I smirk, prowling ever closer until Miiranda is trapped between me and the car park wall. “I’ll be checking up on our old shipmates when I’m done with you.”

            Miiranda looks around frantically, but there is no one else amongst the other scattered vehicles and I have a feeling that her friends are in no state to come out of the car to defend her. I slowly raise my left hand to open up my inventory and produce the pistol with a single shot loaded within it.

            “This shot is not meant for you. I don’t want to have to do this,” I lie, glad she can’t see my smile. I’ve forgotten how good it feels to be overly theatrical.

            “Please, Captain, please!” Miiranda’s face fills with panic. “I’ll do anything!” Before she fumbles to turn on her emotion-suppressing software, I see her eyes brim with tears. If only she had listened to everything I had tried to teach her during our days as pirates, she would have been able to get out of this situation quite easily. But that’s her loss.

            I click the safety off and press my finger to the trigger. “Too late.”

            Miiranda doesn’t have the chance to cry out before the bullet hits her in the centre of the forehead, and she explodes. Coins spill out onto the concrete floor, as well as my complete collection of _Star Trek_ and _Star Wars_ weaponry. Scooping all of the coin into my bag of holding, I notice a couple of items that look all too familiar.

            A three-sided, stiff, black leather pirate hat, with large, white feathers and gold trimmings lay in a pile of clothes and jewellery. Smiling, I stoop to pick it up and see that my old coat is also there. A thick, black velvet coat complete with gold trimmings to match the hat, and under that, my gold buckled, black leather boots.

            “Hello, old friends,” I smirk, quickly switching my hats, slinging the coat over my tunic, and swapping my boots.

            Once everything has been cleared up, I stroll over to the car and open one of the back doors. There are three people in the back seat and another in the front passenger seat. Obviously, it’s not possible to get drunk in the OASIS, but there is software that you can download that can best simulate the sensation of being drunk. Personally, I think it’s one of the dumbest things that someone can spend their money on.

            “Such carelessness,” I tut, shaking my head. Pulling out a Cardassian disrupter, I shoot each of them.

☠

I remove Miiranda from my friends list, so that when she respawns she won’t be able to find me. My other two crew members, one of whom had better hope that they’re in possession of my ship, are still hanging out together, but not in a PvP zone. I’ll have to wait until they move into one.

            Anyone calling themselves ‘pirate’ in the OASIS is bound to visit one particular planet most frequently. It lies behind a moon, large enough to hide it, in Sector Twelve; Tortuga. And it’s exactly how you would imagine it to be.

            A tropical climate, prone to heatwaves and downpours, Tortuga is made up on several towns that seem to float on the black waters of the planet’s seas. It was coded by European clan named ‘The Flying Dutchmen’, who were some of the OASIS’s first users. They perfectly recreated the run-down feel of the splintered, worn docks of the Caribbean at the time of the British Empire, with plenty of nooks and crannies to fold yourself into if you were planning an ambush or hiding from an enemy.

            The planet itself is a PvP zone but the creators somehow managed to prevent both magic and advanced technology from functioning. I assume that they wanted to keep it as historically accurate as possible. There are unspoken rules as well; even pirates have a code, a code I plan on breaking very soon.

            The entire westside town consists of bars, brothels, and places for avatars to piss away their coin betting on rigged odds. So when I see the avatars named Kit200 and LJSylver appear in that area around the planet’s twilight my heart gives a satisfied and somewhat maniacal leap. I would have put most of my newly acquired coin on the fact that they would appear there sooner or later. I decide to cut them off from the town, get things over with quickly. I don’t have time to waste.

            The two of them step up onto the docks from their unimpressive boat. Feeling on a roll with my theatrical streak, I watch them through the sails of the other ships and boats tied up to the docks. Just like on Neonoir, there is nobody around the disturb us.

            “You never did learn how to dream big.” Though my voice doesn’t have the same echoing effect, the lack of persons on the docks paired with the creaking wood under my boots is eerie enough.

            “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Captain,” Sylver sneers as I stride into view, blocking their paths into the town from the longest peer on the docks. “And here I was hoping you’d stayed on the Vacation planet.”

            LJSylver is a stocky, wide women, her avatar perhaps in her thirties, though her childish manner always led me to believe that she is a lot younger in real life. However, her large frame used to be quite useful when it came to smuggling weapons and treasures into or out of a particularly sticky situation, I’ll give her that.

            “It gets old after a while.”

            “I’m sure it does,” she says, her snarky attitude never slipping. She was always my least favourite, reminded me too much of myself. “All those parties, beaches, skiing chalets. Not wonder you wanted to come back to a world of thieves and traitors.”

            “Don’t get funny with me, Syvler. You know what I did to Mimi and you know I’ll do the same to you if you don’t give me what I want.”

            “And what is that?”

            Instead of answering her question, I turn my eyes to the other . “You’re awfully quiet there, Kit.”

            Kit is a tall, spindly, cat-like avatar, complete with a tail, pointed ears, and a skin of tiger-print fur. In the years that I knew her, she would hardly ever speak, and when she did it was never in full sentences. She never did anything to annoy me, per say, but she didn’t stop the mutiny and that’s enough for me to hope my words sting.

            “Just tell us what you want and then get out of my way,” Sylver says.

            “Oh, LJ, you know that’s never how these negotiations worked. But seeing as you asked ever so kindly, I’ll tell you. I just want my ship.”

            “You didn’t get it from Miiranda?”

            “Cut off ties pretty quickly with her, didn’t you?” I comment. “No, she didn’t have it. Said she auctioned it off, but I know she was lying. An iconic ship like that would have come up on my radar even after six months, but it hasn’t been seen in two years.”

            “Which means?” Sylver’s right hand drops to the holster on her waist, and Kit shuffles a little behind her.

            “Which means,” I practically purr, teasing every one of the following words, “that one of you must have it. It will be so much easier for both of you if you just hand it over and we can part ways as old friends.”

            Sylver glances up and back at Kit and they exchange a nod. Kit opens up her inventory and fiddles about a bit. I stride forwards, my footfalls hammering on the wood. Kit glances around nervously as I approach. Sylver’s hand now rests firmly on her gun.

            “Hurry up,” snaps Sylver.

            At this, Kit jumps, pulling something out of her inventory and thus into my vision that she did not intend. But before she can return it, I get a fleeting glance and my heart starts to race, first with excitement, and then with anger.

            “What’s that?”

            “N-nothing?” Kit whimpers.

            I redirect my glare towards Syler, though all either of them can see is the slight tilt of my hat. “Was that what I think it was?” When she doesn’t answer, I flex my fingers, ready to draw a gun from under my coat.

            Kit finally produces my ship, a miniaturized version that I snatch and slip into my coat pocket. I then sigh loudly and say in the lowest, most harrowing voice that I can must. “All this time, you had Flint’s ship. Every time I scoured the auction sites and quest lists so that I could find this one precious thing, you were sitting in the background, laughing at me. It’s not even an artefact, what the hell were you going to do with it?”

            “Just wanted to keep it out of your reach.”

            No sooner had the words left her toad-like mouth had I drawn my weapon and shot Sylver dead. Her inventory begins to spill over the dock into the waters below, but I don’t touch a single coin of it. There isn’t as much as I thought there would be and nothing of value to me. I then turn my gun on Kit.

            “They gave it to you for safe keeping, because they knew you couldn’t tell me when I returned.” Kit nods. “Well, you might as well hand it over, or I’m going to have to dispose of you as well.”

            Kit, hands shaking, opens up her inventory once more and scrolls through. Though I can’t see what’s in there, something tells me that Flint’s ship wasn’t the only thing they were hiding from me with Kit. She pulls the ship out and presents into me with both hands.

            “Thank you,” I say. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

            She smiles warily, shaking her head.

            I shoot her anyway.

            Tortuga was supposed to be a safe place for our kind. Where pirates could come and go without having to worry about zeroing out or having their loot stolen.

            Not anymore.


	5. 'The Captain's Aloft'

It takes less than a day for the news to spread. Though the gunter feeds are still clogged with the news of Parzival and now the famous Art3mis having found the Copper Key _and_ clearing the Copper Gate, even the people who hadn’t been around when I was at my peak are commenting on my return.

            ‘ **The Captain’s Aloft!** ’ is the headline of one particular article and the following extract reads;

            ‘When a black hovercraft plummeted from the roof of a parking lot on Neonior, all four doors open and the message ‘Long Live The Queen!’ scratched in the paintwork on the hood, the people who witnessed the fall didn’t seem to give it a second thought. But after a very public execution on a very small and seemingly insignificant pirate-themed planet in Sector Twelve just a couple of hours ago, everything became clear.

            The two avatars, Kit200 and LJSylver, were confronted on the docks of a town on the west side of Tortuga. None of those who have confessed to witnessing the event have been able to give any details of the verbal exchange, only that it didn’t last very long before Captain Ak3l4 drew her weapon and fired.

            Naturally, the question on everyone’s minds is, if the long-awaited location of the Copper Key was what brought her out of hiding, will the infamous Pirate Queen be going after Halliday’s egg?’

            The post then goes on to analyse several pieces of video footage and a few of my blog posts that could hint at me being a gunter. Of course, I was a gunter, but only my crew members knew that.

☠

Something happens the next day, a stroke of luck that I did not expect. A rumour reaches my ears that Parzival and Aech are actually students on the planet Ludas. It never even occurred to me to look for the Tomb there.

            I purchase and download a map of the planet and, sure enough, in one of the planet’s many woodland areas is a mound with its features arranged to look like a skull. It’ll be far too conspicuous to just land my ship in a field and walk across to the Tomb where anyone of the students could look out of the window and see me, so I keep both of my newly acquired ships miniaturized after landing on a nearby planet and find a transportation point to Ludas.

            The terrain on Ludas is so open and flat, with very few places to hide. I can only hope that all of the students are paying attention in class. It takes me half an hour of running flat out before I reach the right patch of woodland, and even then I have to clamber through the trunks of the trees as there is no path.

            However, when I reach the edge of a clearing, which on the opposite side is the entrance of the Tomb, there are already two avatars standing in the glade, blocking my path. They don’t seem to have heard me approaching, so I slip behind a tree and draw two blasters. The two of them are talking between themselves, one dressed in full samurai gear, and the other in a ninja outfit, but their conversation is in Japanese so I don’t understand a word of it. It doesn’t matter though.

            “Stop right there,” I command, stepping out behind them and aiming a gun at each of their heads.

            They turn quickly and the samurai reaches for his sword. I shake my head slowly and he stops.

            “This is a non-PvP zone,” says the ninja.

            I laugh shorty. “This isn’t a duel. This is an assassination. Unless you step aside now and let me pass.”

            “You killed your crew. How do we know that you won’t try to kill us after we let you go?” says the samurai.

            “Okay, first of all, they killed me first. And secondly, don’t flatter yourselves; you don’t have anything that I want.”

            The samurai looks at his friend and says something in Japanese, and the reply he receives makes him tense. He sighs heavily, throws me a glare, and they both step aside.

            “Give me a five minute head start.” I don’t turn my back on them or lower my guns until I am well into the cover of the Tomb.

            Because of my knowledge of the campaign itself, I know exactly where all of the traps are. All of the creatures I encounter are relatively low level and easy to defeat, and I’m even able to pick up some items along the way. By the time I reach the Pillared Throne Room, I’m spoilt for choice in which weapon I’ll use to fight the final boss.

            And he comes far sooner than I expected. Acererak, the demi-lich, lounges across the throne upon the dais at the far end of the hall. Though his jewelled eyes bear no pupils, I can somehow feel them following me as I stride up to foot of the stairs leading up to the dais.

            “Greeting, Ak3l4. What is it that you seek?” His low voice rips through my spinal cord, a jagged bone saw echoing off the stone walls.

            “The Copper Key,” I state as if any other answer is ridiculous. “And I’m assuming you’re here to stop me from getting it?”

            “That depends on your point of view,” Acererak says, rising to his feet and towering over me. “I’m more than willing to give you the Key if you prove yourself to be worthy of it,” and then he adds, in a tone so unfitting with his menacing voice, “and you show me that you know what manners are.”

            I laugh, gesturing between his tall, harrowing frame and my comparatively mouse-like body. “Hey, you’re a king, I’m a queen. We’re on the same level.” I’d be a fool to think that this has him convinced but it lightens doom and gloom vibe of this entire room. When he doesn’t respond, I sigh loudly, rocking back and forth on my heels. “So…how am I going to prove myself worthy of the Key, Your Majesty?” I do a little curtsey. “Yes, that is best you’re going to get from me today. I’m not feeling particularly patient at the moment.”

            “You shall have to beat me at a joust?”

            “Excuse me? Jousting? As in with sticks?”

            “Sticks of a kind.” The demi-lich reaches out an arm, as if to invite me up onto the dais. And as he does, an old arcade game materialized next to his throne.

            The game reveals itself when I approach, and I sigh almost in despair. Of course; Joust.

            Video games have never been my strong point. Back when I was a gunter, I tried to get better, but I didn’t have anyone to practice with, play against, or to give me any pointers.

            So it isn’t any surprise when I loose the first game in just a few minutes. I opt to compete as Player Two, thinking that the demi-lich is probably far more used to that position and I need every advantage I can get.

☠

I’m not sure how I manage to win. It’s a close call on both of the following games, but with the sheer will power of a shounen anime protagonist, I manage to achieve what all previous evidence would show to be impossible.

            My play is erratic and violent, a far cry from the confident precision with which I would execute anything else in the OASIS. But the thought of the two avatars behind me, most likely gunters, and the power and credibility that I lost when my crew turned mutinous, drives me to my, quite frankly, panicked victory.

            I win purely out of luck, and I’m not proud of it. I even bow to the demi-lich when he offers to shake my hand, because I don’t deserve to win. All I want is the Copper Key.

            When I take it, the demi-lich dissolved along with the Joust arcade game. There is a line of writing on the stem of the Key, which I can only assume is the clue to where I will find the Copper Gate. And reading it once tells me everything I need to know.

            I don’t see either if the two avatars I met on the way into to Tombs as I retrace my steps through the dark passageways and into the clearing. I don’t doubt that they are hiding from me, somewhere along with way. After my threat, there can be no doubt in _their_ minds that this is the place where the Copper Key is hidden.

            Now, as I previously stated, video games are not my forte, so when I arrive on Middletown and go up to Halliday’s childhood bedroom, it takes me a long time to cautiously creep my way through the levels of the _Dungeons of Daggorath,_ restlessly fidgeting on the rough carpet, willing the game to end.

            Movies, however, are my forte. And, as Matthew Broderick is one of my favourite stars from the 80s, _WarGames_ is a godsend. After falling through the first gate, every line of Broderick’s character rolls off my tongue with glee. My love of theatricality earns me almost all of the bonus points for line delivery.

            I don’t check the Scoreboard when I have completely the Copper Gate, when I have returned to my ship on the Vacation Planet.

            My names was up on my old followers’ newsfeeds, but now it’s out there for all the OASIS to see.


	6. Pride and Prejudice

I had expected the news feeds to blow up when my name appeared on the Scoreboard, but because I didn’t check it between winning the Copper Key and getting through the Copper Gate, the sheer volume of content is overwhelming. And before you can say that I’m blowing my own trumpet, you should know that the majority of the articles and comments are negative.

            After I got rid of my crew, it left my friends list completely empty which, thankfully, means that I can’t receive any of the hatred in my DMs. My inbox, however, is filled to the brim with pending messages, pathetic attempts to tear me apart. Most of these are blocked by my security system and I get rid of those.

            I spend a while deleting the ones that got through into my inbox, including a couple from IOI, no doubt trying to rope me into their master plan to take over the world. Just as I am about to log out for the night, I find something from a name I actually recognise.

            It’s from Aech, the avatar above me on the Scoreboard. A quick virus scan tells me that it’s safe, so I open it.

_Captain,_

_I cordially invite you to my private chatroom to converse with the other persons present on the Scoreboard, with regards to the quest for Halliday’s Easter Egg. You will find all required access details attached to this message._

_I hope that you will grace us with your presence._

_Sincerely,_

_Aech._

            I can’t tell whether the ironic wording is a mockery of me, my Victorian attire, or a simple injection of humour in order to win my favour. I scroll down, check the time of meeting, and sit back slowly in my captain’s chair, stroking my beardless chin. The bad feeling I usually get before I go into a risky situation isn’t there, which is going to make all of this so much harder.

☠

The OASIS clock ticks over the midnight hour and I drum my fingers on the side of the ship. Letting out a heavy sigh, I finally make up my mind. If I don’t at least make an appearance, my head will never allow me any peace on the matter.

            Striding up the steps to the helm, I steer the ship down onto the nearest non-PvP zoned planet, which also happens to be the Vacation Planet. The ship lands in one of the planet’s many sapphire oceans far more smoothly than I imagined and I hear a few screams from the beach, even though it’s over fifty feet away. Though I know it isn’t necessary, I activate the ship’s shields and retire to my cabin. The invitation is still in my inbox. I collapse once again into my captain’s chair and open up the chatroom simulation.

            My avatar materializes at the top of a staircase. At the bottom is a door that has been left slightly ajar and I hear voices coming from inside. I try to walk quietly down the stairs, but the heels of my boots are excruciatingly loud. The voices fall silent and I give up on my attempt to hide my arrival.

            Adjusting the feathers on my hat, I hook my heel into the gap between the door and the frame, pull it back, and let the door swing open and hit the wall behind it. I look around the chatroom, in awe of it’s meticulously detailed replication of Ogdon Morrow’s basement. The five avatars sitting on a large sofa in the middle of the room can’t see my face, so I don’t bother hiding my amazement.

            The most humanoid of the avatars was a handsome, young man, a blue tint to his skin and bright blue eyes staring up at me in alarm. The only other female in the room is smiling mischievously, flicking at her spiked, raven hair with delicate fingers.

            There was another man in full samurai gear and smaller avatar beside him dressed as a ninja. I recognise them immediately as the two avatars I stopped outside the Tomb a few days ago. “You must be Daito and Shoto?” They both stand and bow, a gesture that I return. “I trust that there are no hard feelings about our previous meeting?”

            “No hard feelings,” the samurai, Daito, says and they sit back down.

            “Wait, you three have met them before?” says the girl, the famous Art3mis.

            Shoto laughs. “She threatened to shoot us if we didn’t let her go ahead of us into the Tomb. She set us back a whole day!”

            I roll my head back, let out a throaty cackle, and turn to the largest of them, a grey skinned, cyborg-looking avatar, who stands. “Captain Ak3l4, I honestly didn’t think you’d show up,” he says, hesitantly extending a hand to me.

            “Aech?” I raise an eyebrow. He nods and I gingerly accept his handshake. “I’m sorry if you felt any obligation to invite me here. May I sit?” Aech nods, gesturing to an empty space.

            “You know,” says Art3mis as I sit down on the sofa between herself and Daito, “after everything I’ve heard about you being this notorious bounty hunter, you don’t seem all that notorious.”

            I laugh. “I’ve taken a long leave of absence, but I’m sure I’ll be back to being good old ‘ay-kay-three-elle-four’ soon enough.”

            “I heard you killed all of your old crew members before you went to get the Copper Key,” Parzival’s attempt to inject humour into his uncertain voice is amusing.

            I only shrug. “Had to get all of my shit back, didn’t I?”

            “Alright then,” says Aech after a moment. “Shall we begin?”

            Art3mis throws up a screen in front of us, a video of what looks like a live stream. “The Sixers made it to Ludus thirty minutes ago. They’ve surrounded the entrance to the Tomb and put up two force fields to stop anyone besides those who work for IOI getting through.”

            “Sons of bitches!” Aech says.

            “Two barriers,” I say. “Clever.”

            We watch for a few moments, as the Sixers open the first barrier, a line of them stepping inside before it closed behind them. Then, the second barrier opens and they swarm into the Tomb.

            “Clever, yeah, but they won’t be able to keep everyone out for much longer. Once the clans hear about this, it’ll be an all out war!” Aech says.

            “But in the meantime, the Sixers will be harvesting those Copper Keys one after the other,” Art3mis adds glumly.

            “That’s not fair!” says the boy, Shoto.

            I sniff. “Since when does IOI play fair?”

            “It might actually be a lot worse than that,” Daito says slowly, only continuing when all eyes are on him. “When Shoto and I got to the demi-lich, it duplicated so that Shoto and I could play Joust at the same time-”

            “Which means that IOI could have any number of Sixers in their right now.” Art3mis lets out an almighty groan. “Isn’t that just fantastic?!”

            “They have no laws, no honour,” Daito growls.

            “That’s why Z and I asked you all here. Tell ‘em, Z.”

            We all turn to Parzival. He, like the rest of us, received emails from IOI. He tells of the conversation he had with Nolan Sorrento upon accepting this invitation and then how they had tried to kill him.

            “You live in one of those trailer parks in Oklahoma City?”

            “Something wrong with that?” Art3mis fixes me with an accusatory glare, one eyebrow raised.   

            “Woah, I was just asking.” I sit back on the couch, raising my hands a little, then shrug. “I saw it on the news. And you’re…still here.”

            “I was in my hideout when it happened.”

            “And you’re still safe?” Art3mis asked.

            “For now, yeah. But it would probably be best if you all made sure your personal details, your real identities, are kept safe.”

            “Speaking of which,” Shoto piped up, “the only reason we were able to find the Tomb is because we heard the rumour that you two went to school on Ludas.”

            “Yeah, where did that rumour even come from? If it weren’t for that, IOI wouldn’t have found out about Tomb either.”

            “Doesn’t make much of difference now, does it?” Art3mis says. “We’re all one step closer to the Egg.”

            “What about you?” Parzival looks at me sceptically.

            “What about me?”

            “Well, forgive me for being so blunt, but you’re not exactly known for your heart of gold.”

            I let out another cackle. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not going after the Egg.”

            “What!?” exclaimed several people at once, all of them turning their bodies to face me.

            “You’re not?” Art3mis says, shocked. “But isn’t that what every gunter wants? You must be a gunter, right?”

            “Yes, I was. I mean, I am. An albeit out-of-practice gunter. But with my bloodline, God knows what I would do with that sort of power.”

            “Are your family not good people?” Daito asks.

            “They’re a good enough family, we get along well. But as businesspeople…If I got the Egg, my family would find some way of claiming ownership of it from me and then we’d all be in trouble.”

            “Does your family work for IOI?” Parzival leans forward, frowning at me.

            “No,” I say sternly. “They wouldn’t stoop that low.” There is an awkward pause, before I add, “I don’t think it would be best for the OASIS if I got the Egg. I’m just here to make sure that it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

            “Well, you are far more reasonable than I thought you’d be.”

            “Thanks, Aech,” I laugh again.

            Even when I had been on the Vacation Planet with the people I call my friends, it was never the same as being in a clan. They weren’t gunters and they didn’t really care about getting the Egg, only seeing who would win the contest. But for that, I can’t blame them. My clan hadn’t really been gunters either. They had been good for film and tv show marathons, and sometimes even playing videogames with, but they weren’t dedicated to finding the Egg the way I had been.

            I hadn’t spent a great deal of time with gunters, even before my clan stabbed me in the back. But being with these people, here and now, I feel stupid for never having tried it before. I have been missing out on so much, even if we haven’t gotten into any in depth discussion. To be around people who care about this quest the way that I do gives me an unfamiliar feeling that I can only assume is what they call ‘belonging’. Maybe clanning up again wouldn’t be so bad.

            “It sounds to me like you’re suggesting that we clan up,” Daito snaps beside me. In losing myself a moment, it seems that I have missed some sort of wildly offensive comment.

            “Is that such a bad idea?” asks Aech. “You certainly have an advantage, there being two of you.”

            “My brother and I are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves. We don’t need any help. We don’t _want_ any help.” Daito shuffles indignantly next to me.

            “You just said that you wouldn’t have even found the Tomb if it hadn’t been for those rumours,” Aech retorts.

            “I don’t think that’s helping.”

            Evidently, Parzival is right. Daito stands abruptly with a scowl so fierce that it could have burnt a whole in his armour. “I will not sit here and be insulted by immoral pirates and…the rest of you. There is only one Egg, which mean that only one of us can get to it first. And it’s going to be either me or my brother.”

            “No one meant to insult you. Can’t we just sit down and talk it over?” But both Daito and Shoto have logged out of the simulation before Parzival can finish his plea.

            A moment of silence follows.

            “Just to clarify,” I say, my voice cutting the tension-choked air between us, “you guys _are_ aware that I am not an ‘immoral pirate’ in real life?”

            “Well I for one don’t really fancy clanning up with you. Then again, I don’t really fancy going up against you in a fight if it came down to it.”

            Though I hear humour in Art3mis’ voice, I throw my head back, careful to hold my hat on securely. “Okay, they _stole all_ of my shit! What was I supposed to do? Let them live?”

            “I have to agree with the Captain on that one.”

            “Thank you, Aech.” I stand, straightening my hat and coat. Turning to face the remaining three, I sweep into a deep bow. “I thank both you and Parzival for inviting me here today.”

            “You’re leaving?”

            “I wasn’t even sure if I was going to come to begin with, and when I’d made up my mind, I was convinced I would be the first to leave. Since everyone has made their feelings about me quite clear-”

            “I was joking, you know,” Art3mis interjects.

            I laugh. “Yes, I know. I hope you can at least believe that I’m glad I got to meet you all, even for a short time, and I have not doubt that our paths will cross in the near future. Until then…” I reach into the pocket of my coat and pull out three large, gold doubloons, “should you even feel the urge to contact me, here is my contact card,” and toss one to each of them.

            “You trust us?” Art3mis narrows her eyes.

            “Trust goes both ways. And that’s not me saying I’ll tip you off if I find anything, or that I’ll have your back if a battle with Sixers goes pear-shaped. But as I’ve already told you, I have not intention of taking Halliday’s Egg for myself, and I’ll be damned if IOI get to it first.”

            They smile. I almost don’t want to leave, but I know they must be inching to discuss things amongst themselves. I don’t log out of the chatroom until I have reached to top of the stairs, by which time their muffled voices reach my ears, and a nerve at the back of my brain tugs notably because I can’t be part of it.


End file.
